In Which a Moment is Stolen
by Azaisya
Summary: James Ironwood asks Glynda to dance, and she consents, leaving Ozpin behind to wonder why he feels oddly jealous. Oneshot, OzpinxGlynda, pre-RWBY (no matter what it sounds like).


"I hate dances."

Ozpin glanced at his teammate. She was leaning against the wall, beside the table of food, her arms crossed and her head bowed. He smiled at her, but she merely rolled her eyes in response. "They're supposed to be fun."

Glynda shrugged again, and he reached out and tugged gently on a lock of her hair. She had left most of it loose for the dance, although it was clear she was now regretting it.

The blonde glared at him and demanded, "Are _you_ having fun?"

He sighed and leaned against the wall next to her. "You know I'm not." He hadn't wanted to come in the first place, but pretty much everybody had nagged him until he'd agreed to come. They hadn't been required to get him to agree to wear something nice, though, because people dressed up when they went to dances, and he understood that.

Glynda groaned and sank deeper into her corner. "I _hate_ dances."

Ozpin's smile widened. "You could try having fun," he suggested. He knew he was, if only because it was rare for her to show that much emotion merely on a whim. "Girls like these types of things, I'm told."

She made a face at him. "I'm sure you had plenty of girls ask _you_ to the dance."

Ozpin paused, wondering for a moment if she was being sarcastic. Deciding that it didn't really matter, he replied, "Not a whit."

"Oh." Her surprised expression made him grin again, and, misinterpreting his smile, she hastily added, "Not that I care."

Ozpin bumped his shoulder against hers, correctly interpreting her reasons for asking the question. "Glynda, who asked _you _to the dance?"

Her cheeks turned red and she glared at him. "None of your business."

A strange feeling stirred in his stomach, but he ignored it, nudging her again. "It is if he's going to beat me up because you're talking to me instead of to him."

Glynda sighed and her expression softened slightly. "It's not your business then, Oz." Her use of his nickname made that feeling vanish, but another one — just as unnamable — took its place. "You know me. I'd never agree to go to a dance unless I was threatened."

Which she had been, he knew. Raven had threatened to burn all of her books if she didn't agree to go, and then had promptly dragged Glynda and Summer off to go dress shopping, forbidding Glyn to bring a book and Summer to bring her cape.

It was worth it, though. Glynda was wearing a purple dress with a layered skirt that was longer in the back than the front. The black belt that cinched around her waist hid her riding crop. Half of her hair had been pinned out of her face, but the rest of it cascaded down her back.

Ozpin didn't say anything, going over their conversation in his mind, as was his habit, to find patterns. Hints. Another second and he decided that his inference was right. Voice more serious than before, he murmured, "So someone did ask you." It wasn't a question. He already knew it to be fact.

Glynda's expression, too, grew solemn. "You know, Ozpin, I hate your gift sometimes."

He smiled humorlessly. His semblance involved time, yes, but he had other talents, things that his teammates referred to as his "gifts". One of which was observing and (normally correctly) interpreting both the outer and hidden layers in a person's behaviour.

Glynda deflated when he remained silent. "James," she mumbled. "But I said no."

Ozpin's head snapped up, his brown eyes widening. "J—" He never got to finish his sentence.

James Ironwood, an exchange student from Atlas, abruptly appeared next to the two. His black hair was neatly combed, and there was a wide smile on his face. "Miss Goodwitch."

Glynda's expression had taken on her usual impassive mask, but Ozpin knew her. The way she crossed her arms loosely over her belt — fingers almost exactly where she had hidden her collapsed riding crop — betrayed her nervousness. "Ironwood."

Ozpin fell silent, an odd, angry feeling rising within him. He had never had a problem with James Ironwood before. So why did he want to pummel him now?

The Atlesian's smile was wide, and he dipped his head slightly. His blue eyes flitted between the two. Smile fading slightly, he asked, "Did you . . . come to the dance together?"

The part of Ozpin that had suddenly decided it didn't like James wanted to ignore him altogether. But the reasonable part of him won out, and he found himself analyzing the situation automatically.

It was obvious that James Ironwood was at least on friendly terms with Glynda, and it was clear he liked her, either as a friend or as a girl.

Glynda respected James, or else she wouldn't have let him approach her. She was also nervous as to how he would act around her now that she had refused him earlier.

No matter how much Ozpin wanted to say, "Yes, we are," just to anger James, he knew that Glynda would either smile and concede now but then give him the verbal lashing of a lifetime later, or she would spurn him now and dance with James out of spite.

And so Ozpin told the truth, despite the fact that he wanted to claim Glynda as his. "No, we did not." Wait. Claim her as his? No man would _ever_ be able to "claim" Glynda. She would never allow it. And he would never want to claim anybody . . . right? He was facing the Atlesian Hunstman-in-training, and so he didn't notice the way Glynda's fingers twitched towards the spot that would release her riding crop.

James relaxed, his smile returning. He turned to face Glynda. Her mask was as impenetrable as ever, but that was how Ozpin knew she was anxious. "Forgive me if this is too forward," he said, "but may I have at least one dance with you?" Glynda opened her mouth, but he quickly added, "I know that you refused to come as my date, but would you at least give me one dance? Just one, Glyn?" His blue eyes became wide and pleading.

Ozpin wanted to kick the man. Nobody was allowed to call her Glyn except for him— um, _her teammates._

Glynda's green eyed slid to Ozpin, but deflated when she saw his steely expression. "Fine," she muttered, misinterpreting his expression as him continuing to try and convince her to "have fun."

James' entire face lit up like a candle. "Really?"

When she nodded slightly uncertainly, he held out his arm, still grinning. Glynda took it, leaving Ozpin behind with nothing but a little wave and a cup of punch.

Ozpin's eyes narrowed and it took all of his willpower not to chase after the two and forcefully push James away. Anger filled him. It wasn't the anger he felt when he saw a Faunus being bullied, or when Bartholomew wouldn't stop talking. It was darker, and more . . . what was the word? _Possessive_. What was wrong with him?! James was a perfectly _nice_ person!

The silver-haired young man forced himself to take a deep breath, realizing that his jaw was clenched and that his grip on his cup was vice-like. Putting the cup down, he took another breath, flexing his fingers and loosening his stance. Did it really matter who Glynda danced with? _No_, the realistic part said. _Absolutely_, the angry part said.

For some absurd reason, the angry part was stronger, and he felt himself thinking, _And why shouldn't it matter? She is my teammate, my . . . friend._

And yet he found himself tracking her path across the dance floor. He watched as she stumbled through the movements, watched as James patiently coached her. He watched, growing tenser and tenser as she relaxed. He found he wanted to be in James' place, wanted to be the person who was making her smile, wanted to be the person who was spinning her around, wanted to feel her hands on his shoulders, wanted to feel the softness of her hair, to see the glow in her eyes, the curve of her neck, the uncertain grace in her steps.

A voice said next to him, "You know, you should just ask her yourself."

Ozpin jumped practically a foot in the air and whirled around to see one of his other teammates, Peter Port. "What do you mean?" he asked, as collectedly as always, ignoring the fact that his heart was beating a hundred times a second.

Peter laughed. For all that he was a constant flirt, he knew his priorities. And one of which was ensuring that his teammates were safe and happy. "Oz, a girl like her deserves a man who isn't afraid to speak the truth," he said in his strong (and sometimes overpowering) voice.

Ozpin distractedly ran his hand through his hair. "She can dance with whoever she likes."

Peter caught his eyes and held them. "If you don't tell her now, you may never have the chance."

Ozpin grimaced. "Tell her _what_?"

The brown-haired Hunstman-in-training narrowed his eyes. "Oh," he said finally. "Wow. You really don't know, do you?"

Starting to feel annoyed, Ozpin demanded, "Tell. Her. What?"

Peter was slowly grinning again. "That you love her, of course!"

Ozpin gaped at him. "L-love?" he stammered. Glynda? Love _Glynda_?! But that was crazy! They were teammates! Friends!

_But then why suddenly hate James Ironwood?_

Horror started to grow in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't be— It wasn't possible— He wasn't _jealous_, was he? Of _Ironwood_? But—

Taking his stunned silence as an affirmative, Peter clapped him on the back. "She is a catch."

Ozpin, for his part, was slowly going into shock. Love was foreign to him. His parents had always been rather distant to him, never giving him anything but expectations and the occasional expensive gift. He had never had any siblings, and found most emotions too bothersome to deal with. But to love _Glynda_. . . .

Voice a high squeak, Ozpin managed, "Let's just say 'like', please?"

Peter's laugh grew more boisterous. He was obviously pleased with the current events. "If you wish."

"Shouldn't you be playing matchmaker with Bartholomew now?" Ozpin asked weakly, torn between needing to sit down and wanting to run up and ask Glynda to dance with _him_.

"He's talking to that Faunus girl," Peter replied easily, eyes roving to their green-haired teammate, "Iris Rain, I think it was." Thoughtfully, he added, "Although I think he should've picked someone a little less . . . forthright."

Ozpin didn't saw anything else, caught up in watching Glynda. Her hair fanned out behind her when she spun, and she seemed to be genuinely enjoying herself. "What am I supposed to tell her?" he wondered aloud. He knew the outcomes of thousands of situations by heart, knew how to influence the little things to create lasting effects, but nowhere in his mental simulations had he ever imagined himself with friends, much less _in love_.

Peter shrugged, clearly enjoying how his level-headed friend was turning into this clueless, socially awkward mess. "Tell her."

Ozpin's head snapped around, horrified. "Not while the moon's still there," he said firmly, "Can you imagine how she'll _react_?" Glynda, who always kept her emotions tightly sealed. Glynda, who was only just starting to open up to her teammates. Glynda, who always had a soft spot for the victims. Glynda, who was smart and brave and talented.

_Oh, dust, I am in love_, he thought.

Peter's smile softened and he patted his leader on the shoulder. "Do not worry," he assured him, "You are a wonderful person. If odd."

Ozpin was no longer listening. He frowned, realizing he couldn't find a hint of the blonde on the dance floor. Unconsciously, he craned his neck, searching for her. Dozens of students were crammed into the room, all talking, laughing, and dancing. He was usually able to pick her out in a crowd easily; there was just something about the way she stood.

"She's not here," he muttered, not realizing that Peter had stormed away with a, "No, you don't ask a girl like _Iris_ what she thinks about school!"

Ozpin's search was becoming increasingly desperate. _There_! James Ironwood was pushing his way through the dance floor. Despite the fact that he knew he shouldn't, Ozpin instinctively activated his semblance, slowing time down just a touch so that he could fight his way to James' side more quickly.

The effort left him breathless, and when time returned to its normal speed, Ozpin was beside the Atlesian. James jumped, blue eyes wide. "Ozpin! You startled me! Are you . . . okay?"

Ozpin waved off his concern, still gasping for breath. He knew that his skin was all-too-pale and that sweat slicked his brow, but he didn't care. Love or not, Glynda was on his team. She was his friend. If Ironwood had hurt her in any way, he would personally ensure that he would never be able to procreate again. "W-where's Glynda?" he demanded, trying to sound as dangerous as he could while he needed to brace himself on his knees.

James leaned down so that their eyes were level. "I was just coming to ask you if you'd seen her." His brow was furrowed, and he appeared genuinely concerned. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Despite the fact that they were surrounded by dancing couples, Ozpin promptly grabbed a fistful of the other's student's collar, bringing him up with him when he stood. "_What did you do_?" he snarled.

James' eyes narrowed and he pulled forcefully away. "_Nothing_. I'd gone to get some food, and when I came back, she was gone, alright? I didn't do anything to her. I respect her too much for that."

Ozpin's breathing slowed as he realized that the other Hunstman-in-training was telling the truth. Still not keen on being nice to him just yet (the green-eyed monster still refused to relinquish its hold on him), he stepped forwards. "Was she upset?"

James slowly shook his head, his frown deepening. "I don't think so, but you know Glynda." _Yes, he did. They were on the same team._ "She's not exactly an open book."

_Not to most people, leastways_. Ozpin wildly backtracked, thinking of the obvious signs that peope gave off, the types of signs that even Ironwood would notice. "What were you talking about?" Now that he was certain that James had not knowingly aided in Glynda's disappearence, he was back to turning on the spot, searching for her.

James thought back, his eyes flicking upwards as he tried to remember. "All kinds of things. Classes. The Schnee Dust Company. The color purple."

"Before you went to get food," Ozpin pressed, frankly shocked that he had to spell it out.

James made a face at him. "I'm not an idiot, Ozpin. I'm trying to remember. Right. Dust, purple, corgis. . . ." He snapped his fingers. "You."

Ozpin took a step back, nearly bumping into two girls, who yelped and jumped out of the way, but he didn't notice. "_Me_?"

"I forget the specifics, but that's it."

Ozpin wondered how talking about him had upset her. _How do you know she's upset_? the realistic part of his mind asked, _She could have needed to use the bathroom_. He sent out a pulse of his aura, feeling for hers. It wasn't something everybody could do, and he rarely ever did it. "She's outside," he said, frowning, already moving towards her general direction.

He briefly played with the idea of slowing time again to lose Ironwood, but decided against it. Fooling around with time was never anything to be taken lightly, and the physical and mental effects it had on him made using his semblance for something superficial like this reckless and stupid. And so he ran instead, chasing away the lingering ache in his limbs from the last time he'd used his semblance. His vague sense of where her aura was led him to the balcony. To his relief, he found her sitting on the barrier, her legs dangling into the open space below. She appeared fine, head tilted back as she stared at the sky.

"Glynda!" he called.

She half-turned her head, but her blonde hair blew to the side, obscuring her face. "Ozpin." Her voice was level, even welcoming.

Ozpin walked as slowly as he could without running to her side. "Why are you out here?"

She turned to face him, and he was relieved to see her expression naturally relaxed, without a hint of any sort of mask. "It was getting hot in there."

Ozpin swung his legs over the barrier so that he could sit next to her. Her fingers were moving, twisting her riding crop around and around. Now sure what to say now that he had found her, he merely sat there in silence. His heart was beating especially fast after his conversation with Peter, and he found himself worrying about things he'd never even thought about before. He wasn't sure if he was too close or too far, if he should touch her or stay away. He looked around, just in time to see James' heel as he left. Silently, he thanked him, despite the fact that he probably would never say that aloud.

In the end, it was her who spoke first. "We should probably be getting back to the dance."

Ozpin nodded, but didn't move. As far as he was concerned, he was comfortable where he was, with his arm loosely touching her side. She sighed heavily, and her breath was visible in the air, which was quickly growing colder. "James is probably looking for me."

In response, Ozpin put his arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him. Fluttery emotions exploded in the pit of his stomach when she stiffened but didn't pull away. Her hand fell limp in her lap, her riding crop hanging half-off her knee.

Glynda murmured, "You're very warm, Oz."

He smiled slightly, resting his chin lightly on top of her head. She was slowly relaxing, and he asked softly, afraid of provoking her, "Why did you leave the dance?"

Glynda shrugged listlessly, but she pressed closer to him. "I don't know." Her fingers tapped her riding crop, and it folded in on itself. She tucked it into her belt, and then continued, "Maybe I just don't like dancing."

"I saw you," he said, hating the way jealousy returned to plague him, "You looked like you were having fun."

Glynda pulled away, and he missed her warmth immediately. "I was. And then— I'm not sure. It just . . . hit me. The way James was talking to me. I didn't — _don't _— want that kind of attention." Her sharp green eyes met his fleetingly before she looked away. "Not from him." She turned around and swung her legs over the barrier so that she stood.

Ozpin folded his legs up so that he could turn, keeping her in his sight. Her eyebrows were drawing together, and there was a light blush dusting her cheeks. "Did he say something out of line?" His voice may be mellow, but his hands were tightening around the barrier, fresh anger surging through him. What was going _on_ with him? He was normally so in control of his emotions, his thoughts. How was she able to do this to him without even knowing the influence she had?

"No!" Glynda exclaimed, whirling around to meet his gaze head-on. "No, nothing like that." Her lips twitched slightly. "I just— I think he likes me," she admitted, "and I don't want that kind of attention." Ozpin's heart nearly fell into his shoes. Almost too softly to be heard, she added, "Not from him."

Without knowing what he was doing, he had leaped off the barrier so that he was standing. She watched him. In the darkness, he couldn't see for sure what emotions were flickering in those green orbs. Unsure of himself, he leaned closer to her. Her lips parted slightly, but she didn't step away.

_What was he doing?_ She had just said she didn't want that kind of attention and, more to the point, _he had no idea how to kiss_! But he couldn't stop. It was if he someone else was controlling him, as if someone else was urging him to put a hand lightly on her back.

And yet he was acutely aware of her own reactions. Of how she leaned into his touch, how she tilted her head back obligingly.

"Found you!"

Ozpin and Glynda leapt apart as though burned. Both were blushing profusely, each refusing to meet the other's eyes. For his part, Ozpin couldn't believe what he had almost done. He wasn't sure if he was disappointed or relieved.

The person who had interrupted them — Peter — looked horrified. "Oops. Sorry." He hastily back-pedaled.

The moment was broken, and Ozpin threw a furtive glance at Glynda, only to find her staring resolutely at her shoes. Awkwardly, he stammered, "W-we should go."

She nodded and practically fled, racing into the main body of the ballroom. Ozpin followed, but at a much slower pace, still stunned. He couldn't return to the dance now, and so he turned to go back to the dorms, ignoring Peter when he poked his head around a corner.

He caught a glimpse of Glynda moving through the crowd, and realized that she was heading to their dorm room as well. Changing his mind, he went in the direction of the library instead. Who knew? He might find a book that could tell him how to deal with a situation like this.


End file.
